by Andrea Lena DiMaggio
“Esme?” The girl said softly.
“Do you think father will be upset?”
“Upset, not at all. I think he’d rather be pleased with how well we play.”
“No, not our playing? You know it’s not fair for mother to make us play like this!”
“Our strings? I rather love our playing!” Esme replied.”
“No, silly, not our strings! Our playing like this!” Mirabel used her eyes to point down at her dress.”
“Oh….not fair at all. Nice now that we have company, don’t you think?” Esme laughed.
“I suppose it’s not what I think that matters, but what he thinks?” Mirabel laughed in return as she gazed at their sleeping father.
by John William Waterhouse
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